The Best Job
by PhuzeBox
Summary: President Snow himself assigns one of the highest paying jobs in Panem to a low-life in twelve. Can the occupation, covered in secrets, Be brought down by the Girl on Fire? Half-Canon. HG-CF. T for Death and Theatrical Government conspiracy. Probably going to be a Tri-shot
1. Chapter 1: The Best Job

_The Best Job_  
_Chapter One _

_**They Said it was the "Best Job"**_

But it didn't take long for me to find out it was also the easiest. The only districts that didn't really need this job were 1, 2, & 4. And, It's quite funny, my dad had the same job, before he died. I guess there is just something about that name, Jethro, that means a whole lot to the President. When they first confronted me, it was after my Father's funeral.  
"Abutilon Jethro! Son of Miska Jethro! Will you please follow me?" The very commanding voice of a peacekeeper soundeded. I was then taken to a dark room. A room that stank of blood. I feared a flogging. When the lights flickered on, they made a very uncomfortable humming sound. However, The lights weren't the only thing making me uncomfortable. For in front of me slouching on a couch, lay President Snow.  
"Hello, Abutilon" were the first words his blood red lips formed. My Father never had a big beef with the president, as did I. "I trust that you never knew much about your father, correct?" I knew bits and peices, but it was only a few weeks before he died that I figured out, he wasn't always going to the mines. "Your Father is part of a handful of representatives, that help the Capitol in there own way. It is my honor, to let you in on this little secret." It seemed as though his white rose complemented everything around his body. It must have been stinking up the room. Because the only smell saturating the room was the smell and roses and eerie blood.  
"You see, Your father cooperated with us for quite some time, and this is why he was one of the richest men in twelve." This was something that, I guess, My father never shared with me either. I could tell that Snow didn't want to get straight to the point, he seemed to be prolonging his little speech, though I was the only one listening. "Are you a man of conspiracy, Mr. Jethro?" though the fear of flogging lay at rest, a new one quickly arose. Avox.

"Don't worry, I won't cut out your tongue if you answer yes," He coughed and laughed at the same time. "in fact, there is no wrong answer. Answer up!"  
"Well, sometimes, I guess."  
"What a disappointing answer, I gave you two answers, and you chose the one that wasn't on the list. Your father was, though. When I asked him this, he told me things that I didn't even know about. However, this job, fits any man, so long as it is passed on."  
I grew tired of waiting, so I asked "what is this job you talk about?"  
"Before I tell, I wish to know if you accept." he said.

"Why would I-"  
"it will only benefit you to accept."  
My teeth started chattering, it was very cold in the room. But I felt nauseous. _Who knows what this "job" of his would be? It could be the front line of war, it could be to sacrifice myself in some ritual. It could be- _ I ceased thinking, knowing that we all die some day, and whispered "yes"


	2. Chapter 2: The Short-Circuit

_**The Short-Circuit**_

I open my eyes, once more. My face is in the pillows. I would consider this the best time of the year, but this year, that couldn't be farther from the truth. I put on my winter clothes, for this frosty weather is never forgiving up here. I kiss my still-sleeping mother and walk out the door. Drudging through the sticky snow, I enter the Mayor's house. I only wish I could ventilate what surges through my head this time every year, but thanks to the secrecy of my job, I would have to die before I let a living soul know.  
For eighteen years, I have been one of the richest men in twelve. For eighteen years, I've been lying to everyone I love. For eighteen years, I have been living the life of a government official. But last year, Snow did something I could never forgive. I walk on, going down a spiral staircase, my feet clanging against the wrought iron at every step and echoing down. When I reach the bottom, Seneca Crane, The Mayor, and President Snow sit on their velvet seats. Chatting about the next game, probably.  
"Ah, Good evening Mr. Jethro," Seneca starts, "How is your mother?..." realizing that he had brought up an awkward conversation, I finish it.  
"She's fine, she's still mourning, like me, but recovering quickly" I look directly into Snow's eye's "Unlike me"  
"Please, take a seat" charges Snow, while he still holds my glance.  
I scoot one of the velvet seats toward me and sit.  
"This year's tributes, Let's see." Seneca says, pulling out a small white contraption. He lays it on the table, and it projects a blue image into the air. As it does every year, it gives two choices. One, lists "Credence" and the other lists "Falsehood". Jokingly, Seneca asks, "Which one?" however, we've discussed that we only use Falsehood in dire situations. Seneca taps the opaque button "Credence" and a list of every district appears. Seneca chooses twelve, when a textbox pops up he asks Snow, "What are the lucky numbers?"  
"I want them to have a weak chance, like on the 66th, give them a 21" Seneca enters in 21, and the computer does it's work. On a list, it has every citizen between the ages of 12 and 18, and pairs them for possible outcome, in this case, a 21% chance of winning. This is usually based off of tests that they took in school, or other officially recorded events. Two names appear on the hologram, the first, belongs to that of Peeta Mellark, when I look at the second one, I nearly fall out of my chair. It looks just like her. I have to ensure myself it isn't my sister, my younger, who was selected for the games last year, but alas, she goes by another name. Primrose Everdeen.

Afterward, I exit and go to my office, I hold the photo's and names of the two future tributes, but I become very acquainted with her face. This girl, Primrose Everdeen. I can only hope that something happens, that she becomes ill or something that would stop her from going into the games. She is a splitting image of my sister. I would hate to go through the sadness a second time. I type both names into my computer and the printer mass-produces the name. I ensure that no card looks the same, and transfer the cards to a roller, which rolls each name and folds them. After this, I sort them into the boy's and girl's bowls. I started in the morning, but when I leave, It's way past midnight.

Two weeks later, at the reaping, I attend, only to stand in the back row. I scour the rows of girls to find Ms. Primrose. Unfortunately, I see her, fourth row, column seven. It looks as if her fate is sealed. I back away and sit on a tire, leaning against a wall. After a few minutes, A very colorful woman, Effie Trinket slides her way from behind the curtains. She introduces herself, makes her speech, and tries to get straight to the point.  
"As usual Ladies first". I feel hundreds of eyes close, as if anticipating the worst, hoping for the best, but all of them waiting. Not mine, however. Mine well up in tears, and water the dry ground beneath me. Effie's hand dives in and pulls out the only name that could come out. "Primrose Everdeen!" she exclaims -though obnoxiously through the microphone- the echo resounds in my ears, like the many names I printed. There is a silence that lasts for days as Effie encourages Primrose to step up to the stage.  
"I volunteer!" a sudden voice screams. I first thought it came from the speakers, it was so loud. "I volunteer as tribute!"  
Effie seems very confused and stutters over her words, but the Mayor comes in and accepts what seems to be an older girl's hand as volunteer. _Oh God_ I think_ for the first time, in the history of twelve, we have a volunteer. _The Mayor was probably glad to have the twelve-year-old off the stage, Primrose starts screaming a name. "Katniss!" She grabs onto this Katniss and starts to drag her, but eventually lets go. Katniss steps onto the stage and Effie asks for introductions  
"Katniss Everdeen" the impact of this situation hits me full force, like a train, running over my heart.  
"I'll bet my buttons that that was your sister" Effie says, she is obviously too excited to notice that no one is clapping. Instead, every one raises three fingers to their lips and up to the air. In tears, we give this valiant woman the honor she deserves. As for me, though, I could never be happier.

I'm led into a room in the Justice Building. The mayor and I sit across from one another. Seneca slides into the room, almost unnoticed if it weren't for his colorful tux and loud attitude. Snow however, came barging in like a blizzard and the air automatically went cold to the bones. He grumpily sat down in the chair.  
"Bring out the Chanceom" he growled. Seneca pulled out the white object and set it down on the table. The hologram popped up and Seneca chose District 12. "Choose 'Falsehood'" Snow commanded. Upon choosing "Falsehood", two more options came up. "Simulation" and "Engagement". Snow gestured for the device and Seneca slid it into his hands. He starts "Simulation" and pairs the two, "Katniss Everdeen" he thinks aloud "and Peeta Mellark". He waits, impatiently, for the percent chance to come up, but when it does, He let's out a very lusty, angry yell, he curses aloud for fifteen minutes straight, for on the hologram, is the number that changes the game. That number, is 87%.

While three men frustratingly argue with themselves, in their chairs, I lean back.

Smiling from ear to ear


End file.
